The Cigarette Case
by Hiei's Cute Girl
Summary: Sakura hated the smell of smoke; Shikamaru was too lazy to change his new habit. They compromised… somehow.


**The Cigarette Case**

**Summary: Sakura hated the smell of smoke; Shikamaru was too lazy to change his new habit. They compromised… somehow.**

**One-Shot  
It's all in the wrist**

Shikamaru was eyeballing her from his spot on the grass lazily, though not without a little irritation hiding behind the dark corners of his hooded eyes. His half-mast gaze was almost accusing, but Sakura did not mind it that much. One of her teammates excelled at wordless passive-aggressive staring, so it took more than that to rattle her methodic, perfect world.

"Geez," he communicated, lips barely moving in characteristic sluggishness the Nara family was infamous for. A hand rose, extended toward her, and Sakura inwardly marveled at just how bored and forced such a simple gesture seemed. Shikamaru had the imitation of a long-haired cat down pat to perfection. She wondered if he practiced in front of a mirror.

"Give it back," he drawled, the words curt and somehow telling of everything and nothing. She then knew that practicing in front of a mirror would take too much energy from this chronically lethargic man, so she supposed that he was just born with a talent for unindustrious movements. She pondered the words like a philosopher pondered the sunrise and all its implications and meanings and beauty and whatnot, before shaking her head with finality.

"No."

Shikamaru's face changed into a frown, a veritable grimace of large proportions in his book, and seemed visibly to weigh his options. He was stuck between getting it back from her (though HOW was something he had yet to start planning for) and simply letting the matter drop. His elbow was struck with a pang of pain at the thought of an almost full box of cigarettes in her hand he had paid for and the amount of money uselessly spent. He briefly considered letting it go and not even bothering to buy another, but his loyalty to his teacher (and the brief spurt of nicotine withdrawal) hammered that thought down with a mallet.

Decided, he gave her a 'look'. Again, like his words, it seemed to say everything and nothing, but Sakura chose to ignore it with an annoyed snort, glancing to the side to avoid his eyes. The easiest way for him to get out of this would be to play the submissive side, since Sakura was notorious for kicking ass whenever an alpha male tried to curb her into the subordinate role (Naruto and Sasuke finding themselves at the hospital too many times to count was proof enough). She was an alpha female with mild issues and a general hate for male authority to react well to being told what to do by him, so Shikamaru decided it was best to play on the safe side.

Even if the safe side still implied a few broken ribs and a black eye when it came to Sakura... She was a famous double-edged sword, not matter what hand her opponent played.

"What will it take for me to get that back?" he asked, voice still crawling with enough languid energy to make her feel like taking a nap in the grass. Her smile was crooked, at Shikamaru took it as a good sign that she had yet to aim a kick at his flank.

"Friday, pick me up at seven," she informed him casually, turning to walk away.

He managed to rally enough of his energy to sit up and reach out to her with his voice. She was inwardly giddy that he sounded a hell of a lot more alert now than he did before.

"Where?" That did not sound like a yes but it was certainly not a no.

"My place," she looked at him over her shoulder, every bit the saucy shinobi he knew her to be. "Don't be late."

He sat back into the grass as she disappeared into the foliage like any ninja worth her salt, thinking her words over with a small smirk on his lips. The thought that retrieving that box would be too troublesome came and went in his head, but since Friday was only two days away, he allowed it to escape his mental grasp. He wasn't that addicted to the stuff he could not wait a few days to smoke again, but the chase was also waking something primeval in him that stirred with interest at the prospect of a good hunt.

_Friday it is._

**The End.**

**Har har.**

**Words: **711  
**Prompt: **Lazy  
**Written: **October 2nd.


End file.
